


Mr Darcy’s Ulterior Diary

by Livana



Category: Pride and Prejudice (1995), Pride and Prejudice (2005), Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bridget Jones's Diary References, Comedy, Crack?, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Parody, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:02:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23773537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livana/pseuds/Livana
Summary: 9 PM. Hmm, either Elizabeth was a really good actress or she didn’t actually know who I was.I felt like I was almost drunk. Like I’d drunken the sweet nectar of gods! I could do anything. Be anyone! I was unstoppable!“My next project will certainly concern communications with animals…,” I said, and then realised my terrible mistake, stopped midsentence, coughed, stared at her, then I shifted my eyes back and forth in the café, bit my lip, and looked at my watch. My manners must have been rather suspicious.She suddenly tilted her head and took a long look at me with her freaking adorable eyes and I started to blush now, but hopefully my beard hid most of it.
Relationships: Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Mr Darcy’s Ulterior Diary

**Author's Note:**

> Mr Darcy begins writing a diary in the year of 2044 (in the style of Bridget Jones' Diary). He is the creator of a kind of technology which can predict and prevent (or mitigate) accidents, but that doesn't necessarily bode well. At least not at first :)
> 
> ### 

**New Year’s Resolutions**

  1. Release the Ambrosia project to the public for free
  2. Stop picking my hair
  3. Stop worrying
  4. Stop being so mistrustful of others
  5. Become (at least a bit) less rude



## Year 2044

**January  
  
**

**Friday 1 January**

_Hairs picked: 22. Worries: 37. Suspects: 2. Insults: 1.  
_

_  
_**Noon. Pemberley: my library**. _Ugh!_ Today, the company is to announce the Ambrosia project to the public. And I’m supposed to attend to it all. Do not want. Why? Oh, there are so many reasons.

For example, Miss Bingley. She won’t stop touching my arm. Leave my arm alone, silly lady!

Oh, and the flattery makes me sick. I know I’ll soon be one of the major reasons why humanity no longer has to fret about lethal injuries, thanks to my accident-predicting-and-preventing-or-mitigating-technology, but this doesn’t make me better than anyone else. I’ve just worked _very_ hard – at least 16 hours every day for 24 years now…

Wow, can that be? Huh. Well, I _am_ proud, I can’t deny that – “immortality” has been achieved to the utter most possible degree which a 21st century human could possibly expect. I managed to code a sufficient algorithm which I’ve tested _vigorously._ By “sufficient”, it is meant to prevent injury by 98.91 %. No one could replicate this program – not for years to come. We’ve used a tremendous amount of data from extreme hardcore adventurers to every day cases, collected from at least 55 years back, and had a magnificent team which I’ve supervised… I suppose I am very clever, yes…

No. No! Stop this right now, Fitzwilliam Darcy. Hubris does not become me. _Ahem._

**Saturday 2 January**

_Hairs picked: 50+ (I lost count). Worries: 50+ (Didn’t care to count). Suspects: 50+ (What’s the point of counting?). Insults: 50+ (Whatever! Stop judging me, please).  
_

**  
****3 AM.** I knew it. I just knew it! Oh, god. So many things have happened tonight. First of all, Mr Wickham has filed the patent for Ambrosia already – in his _own_ name – and he says he will only transfer the copyright to us in exchange for a titanic sum of money!

Well, we will report him to the police or sue him, maybe both. I know we will win the patent back, because he stole merely one of _hundreds_ of backups – of the final product. I have copies of Ambrosia even from its infancy and can prove I’m very likely to be its original creator. It’s no real matter. Just quite infuriating.

What’s a real problem is Miss Bingley. She caressed my arm again.

Well, that’s only a small part of the problem. After the arm-touching, she whispered to me to follow her, after the journalists had questioned me about the technicalities, weaknesses and possible bugs for nearly an hour, and we were taking a brief break.

“Fitzy, Fitzy, come here!” she said, as I worried about electromagnetic pulses.

“Please, don’t call me Fitzy, call me Will, at least, if you’d like to abbreviate. What is it?” I said, in my usual cranky manner.

“Willy, Willy! We’re going to be rich!” she said and started dancing a ridiculous little dance for herself there in the hallway.

“Rich?” I asked, shook my head, and raised an eyebrow while also raising my shoulders and letting them drop. I am quite sure my whole body language must have told her that I didn’t understand what she went on about. I am already quite wealthy, and I don’t need to be more well-off. I have learnt of mirror neurons and I believe I am one of those people who possess those sorts of brains which reward them whenever they help someone else.

“ _Ah, yeees!_ ” she said, in a high pitched voice. “I can finally buy myself that yacht... no, wait, I can buy myself _an island_. A _huge_ island! Declare independence...”

“What the _hell_ are you talking about?!” I said and crossed my arms, probably frowning a lot.

“Our patent will surely last more than 20 years, I’m _quite_ sure. Everyone will want to have it – police officers, lawyers, judges – and their family and friends... If you get what I mean! _Hint hint!_ ” she said and then she giggled. And snickered. And frankly, she started to cackle quite maniacally, as she swirled around and stroked my arm again. I took a step backwards and jerked my arm away.

“I am against this, Miss Bingley!” I said and shook my finger. “And I am sure your brother and Mrs–“

“–No,” she interrupted me. “The majority of the company board is in _favour_ of this. It’s only you left, Willy.”

“ _Hhhbhrbthb_ ,” I believe I said, because I was reasonably furious by now, but tried my best not to blurt out taunts.

“Hmm? Could you repeat that?” she said.

“You massive arsehole,” I said. My rudeness was inevitable – but a New Year’s resolution was a New Year’s resolution. So, to prevent myself from breaking it any further, I somehow accidently stepped on my own big toe and rushed away with a shriek to the men’s room. This is where I asked my digital assistant to call Wickham and Wickham told me of his mischievous activity of kidnapping the patent from the rest of the company. I blurted out more foul language and then called Charles Bingley, which in hindsight, I should perhaps have called first. He readily admitted he had eventually been swayed by his sister’s persistent argument to make profit from Ambrosia, but if I felt so strongly of releasing it for free to the public, he would never stand in the way. Sadly, the two of us still don’t make up the majority of the board. _Argh_ , I knew the board was a mistake in the first place!

And then, the interview with the journalists continued, meanwhile I was in the bathroom speaking to Charles. At that point, apparently Miss Bingley told everyone how expensive Ambrosia was going to be. So, when I got out of the bathroom to take a breather outside the building, unknowing of what Miss Bingley had told the public, this silly little journalist came up and accused me of being a greedy old prick. My response was countless of profanities. She threw me her business card in case I’d come to my senses.

Elizabeth Bennet, her name is. I will never call her. Never, ever, everrrr…!

**Sunday 3 January**

_Hairs picked: All. Worries: All. Suspects: All. Insults: Damnit._

**Afternoon?** My lawyer is unoptimistic of me being able to release Ambrosia to the public for free, without any legal troubles. And yet everyone – the public – thinks it was _my_ idea to make profit of it for some reason. The news is writing rather wicked articles about me. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this. One of the authors of the nastiest articles was that Elizabeth woman. Maybe she was behind all the original malicious rumours.

Yeah, I did call her. Even though I said I wouldn’t.

“Hello, Elizabeth Bennet speaking,” she answered.

“You… you… you’re not sufficiently pretty!” I said, hung up and wondered whether this was an insult or not, but of course it was.

I felt quite embarrassed and I still do. I just feel like disappearing. Yeah, I’ll disappear from this dim-witted society.

Good-bye, cruel world!

… I’m going to Bahamas.

**Thursday 30 June**

  
**4.30 AM.** Hello again, silly little analogue diary. I finally found you again, all dusty under my bed here in Pemberley...

Well, this has been an interesting turn of events. The public had apparently decided to “boycott” Ambrosia for some reason, even though the PR team has tried everything to promote it. “Go on grand, dangerous adventures in the deepest oceans or outer space!”

Pff. Didn’t work. At all.

This wasn’t _really_ my intention of Ambrosia in the first place anyway – it was meant to be distributed and calibrated first to firemen, healthcare providers, scientists… and then finally to any average citizen of the Earth.

_Sigh._

I’m in the process of losing all my capital since I took a copy of Ambrosia’s code and blueprint, which anyone would be able to utilize with their own 3D-printer, and then I decided to upload it all to the “indifferent” public anyway, despite my lawyer’s counsel.

But my server in Bahamas was shut down fairly quickly. You see, I was then sued fairly quickly as well. They somehow knew it was me. And _yet_ the news accuses _me_ of not wanting to share my invention with the world. They write that I was “hacked” when it was by my own free will! Maybe I should’ve pretended I _was_ hacked because now I’m in a legal hassle.

And not just some civil case but a criminal case.

 _Gah_ , why do I act on my silly impulses sometimes? The prosecutors say, I might even end up in prison for a while because of the “severe financial damages” I’ve caused the company… Rumour has it that some people did manage to download Ambrosia from my server before it went offline, and now it’s “widely pirated all over the globe”. Yet, officially, no one, and certainly no companies, so far has dared to admit that they have, or use, Ambrosia. I think Miss Bingley’s behind the suit anyway. She says the company will drop all charges if I marry her. Worst proposal ever and a _preposterous_ idea! I will never, ever, ever do that! _BLARGH!!! [The rest of the scribbles are unintelligible and covered by blotches of ink.]_

## Year 2064

**November**

**  
Sunday 6 November**

**10.30 AM.** Greetings, little analogue diary! I found you hidden in Charlie’s bank safe. I can’t quite read the ending of my last entry but it was apparently more than twenty years since I wrote it. The paper’s all yellow. Hmm.

Well, I managed to stay out of prison somehow and Charles is pretty nice. I’ve been crashing at his place for like… years? And I... I…

I met a woman the other night. That woman. That Elizabeth Bennet woman. She gave a homeless, or “homefree”, lady in the park a smartwatch and invited her to dinner – after _I_ had turned Elizabeth down.

Supposedly, I looked homefree too, resting on that bench. (Well, she wouldn’t really be wrong.) She didn’t seem to recognise me. Maybe it’s because I haven’t picked any hairs for years. I’ve let it all just grow. It’s a bit wild – maybe I should shave. Or comb. I don’t know.

I heard from Charles she still works as a journalist at...

_Wait a minute._

What if she _did_ recognise me but put up an act? Maybe she saw me and thought she could score a great article. Maybe the public has been wondering what I’ve been doing all these years.

 _Aha_ , and it’s the 20th year anniversary of Ambrosia. You tricksy little woman!

… No, no! I don’t want to be like this. I don’t want to be this mistrustful. I’ve worked so hard in the monastery… It’s just thoughts, they don’t have to be true – just let it go, Fitzwilliam. Breathe in, and out! In, and out. In, and out…

Hmm, she did ruin my life. Yet, I don’t want to feel angry, but now I’m surprised that all I see before me is her eyes.

And I find them… lovely?  
  


**Monday 7 November**

**9 PM.** Hmm, either Elizabeth was a _really_ good actress or she didn’t actually know who I was. She didn’t speak of her job even once – well, not until I brought it up. I asked to see an excerpt of some article she’d written. She said she only writes wholesome articles nowadays.

“What do you mean with ‘nowadays’?” I asked, trying an act myself.

We were at a café, eating some kind of sunflower-tomato-hummous pasta dish. She had invited me for lunch, and I didn’t turn her down this time.

“Oh, I… I did something really awful a few years ago. Or well, _many_ years ago. Do you remember the day Ambrosia was announced to the public?” She nodded at my smartwatch, sticking out of my sleeve on my left arm.

“Hmm… maybe,” I mumbled, and tried to get the hummous out of my beard.

“ _Maybe_?” she giggled, and took a napkin to help me rub the chickpeas out. “Well, I certainly know where I was… I was at the convention centre to interview the investors and team behind the product. There had been a rumour that Ambrosia was going to be free for everyone to use eventually, but a certain member of the board burst that bubble pretty quickly. Not even an average member of the middle class in England could buy it in a life-time. I wonder if that woman, Miss Bingley, had lived under a rock for a few years – we ‘boycotted’ it because the majority simply couldn’t afford it. Oh, and the very few across the globe that _could’ve_ afforded it would’ve ceased to be rich, and they didn’t want that to happen! Well, anyway, I was just so angry because my sister Lydia is a deep ocean scientist and would’ve needed a gadget like that. She is quite brave, I’ll give her that, but also very silly and gets herself in all kinds of misfortunate situations. In any case, I ran out of the convention centre’s building because I felt like crying. I knew no one could possibly owe me, or anyone, this kind of invention but I was not in a very good headspace at that time… Anyhow, I somehow ran into another member of the board and accused him of all sorts of things which apparently weren’t true. And afterwards I added more fuel to that fire. There was this Mr Wickham, another board member, which then contacted the paper, and told me more lies about this Mr Darcy.”

As I heard her speak my name, I flinched and looked up. She was gazing out of the window, so I just quickly looked down again and tried twirling some pasta around my fork.

“Essentially Wickham alleged that Darcy was a money grabber. I believe it was partly because of me that Mr Darcy’s reputation was dragged through the mud. Oh, I felt _so_ ashamed – I still do. I’ve tried to contact the man but I can’t find him. It doesn’t seem like he’s the kind of man who’s connected to the internet anymore or he just simply ignores me. Sometimes I’m really worried he’s dead, but that’s a silly idea, no? The ‘creator of immortality’ being dead?”

She giggled now, looked at me and dried a tear from the corner of her eye. I truly know now what people mean when they speak of “butterflies in the stomach” – I forgot to eat. I think I had just smiled wide at her, never saying anything, while I rested my head in my hands and leaned forward. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. I felt so warm and fuzzy and bubbly in my whole body! Her voice was like an angel’s. No, like a goddess’s. _Ah,_ how _lovely_ it was!

“Anyway, the patent is now public domain since earlier this year. The board tried to renew it, but to no avail. My sister Lydia says she’s used Ambrosia ever since – but I still wonder how a Security bot was alerted and managed to save her life just in time, _twelve years_ ago… Nonetheless, I try to amend my errors by only writing articles about people and events in a positive light, now. And I invite any homefree lady or gentleman for lunch and dinner every day and I’m always honest and open with my past mistakes, even to strangers, among other things. And there might be problems in society sure, but I always try my hardest to offer creative solutions for the public, in different ways.”

And then she showed me this cute little article about kittens which had been saved from a wildfire. And in the end of the article she informed the reader on how they can prevent wildfires like these and where to adopt lonely kittens.

I just started bawling my eyes out.

“Oh, I’m sorry; did I upset you, Mr…? Sorry again, I haven’t even asked you your name?” she said.

She rose up from her seat across from me, and sat down next to me instead, and patted my back. I didn’t mind her touching me at all. Quite the contrary, it was a _marvellous_ sensation.

“No, no, I-I-I…,” I managed to hiccup after a while, with snot all over my beard. “I’m not sad, I’m just v-v-v-ery _moved_!” It was as if all of the tension in my whole body, which I previously hadn’t been aware of, just disappeared in the blink of an eye. I was now wrapped inside a blanket of sentiment and pure bliss.

“ _Awww_ , thank you, your reaction is such a sweet compliment!” she said and handed me a tissue.

I wiped my nose and it felt like I was almost drunk. Like I’d drunken the sweet nectar of gods! I could do anything. Be anyone! I was unstoppable!

“My next project will certainly concern communications with animals – I’m sure Ambrosia can be calibrated for them as well if I…,” I said, and then realised my terrible mistake, stopped midsentence, coughed, stared at her, then I shifted my eyes back and forth in the café, bit my lip, and looked at my watch. My manners must have been rather suspicious.

She suddenly tilted her head and took a long look at me with her _freaking adorable_ eyes and I started to blush now, but hopefully my beard hid most of it.

“ _Oh my god_ , Mr Darcy, is that you?!” she said, and she had no facial hair to conceal her flushing. “ _Oh, it is you_!! I didn’t recognise you with all that… _hair_! You were a bit patchy, almost half-bald, when I saw you last time, and on the pictures later as well... _Oh dear god_ , I just need to breathe for a moment…” Her breathing made her chest heave up and down rapidly, and she let a hand rest on her collarbones as if to calm herself down.

“…Yeah, um, hello,” I said and tried to suppress a burp. This whole recognising-me-thing had made my stomach a little bit upset. But I still felt _amazing_.

“Mr Darcy,” she then said when her breathing was a bit less frantic. She stroked some hair behind her ear and then went down on one knee, shaking slightly. “Could you ever forgive me for what I’ve done? I feel so, so, _so_ terrible. I will do anything to make it up to you! And I would of course never, ever do anything like what I did, ever again!”

“There is nothing to forgive and please, call me Fitzy,” I said.

“Oh, Fitzy, you are _too_ kind!” she exclaimed, took my hands in hers and squeezed them firmly, yet gently, so a chill went through my spine in a _wonderful_ way. “I, um… I have another confession, so to say, and I might as well just spit it out,” she then almost whispered, still holding my hands. “These last years, I have read about all the things you have tried to do, no, _done_ , for humanity. Do you know of how widely spread the pirated versions of Ambrosia were before it became legal for everyone to use? Your invention is brilliant – I have it connected to my smartwatch right here. And it has warned me, and stopped me from hitting my head on the cupboard just today… Fitzy, I’ve have grown to really… _really_ like you…”

“Lizzy, I really like you, too,” I said, breathless and briefly reflected on how effortlessly I could let these non-insults slip out of my mouth. Perhaps because her face was all red again.

“Would um, would you, um…,” she then said as that reflection of mine hastily flew away like some little bird and was soon but a mere dot in a blue sky. Oh, dear god, what was this? Was she going to ask me to marry her? My eyes widened. I’d probably not say no, even though the idea was absolutely ludicrous!

“Would you like some gum?” she then said and took out a package from her pocket.

I hung my head, jerked my hands away from her and tried to hide my face in them.

“ _Argh_ , this is so embarrassing,” I said, probably fairly muffled between my fingers.

I hadn’t brushed my teeth in a while, this was quite true.

“No, no, it’s fine! Really. Oh, this is all my fault. Come on, it’s Strawberry lime. It’s really good.”

“Strawberry lime is pretty good,” I admitted.

“Want to come with me and buy some new clothes? I’ll pay! Then you can come over to my place and take a shower? Afterwards… we’ll see what happens?” She had a rather flirty wink going on in one of her divine eyes by now.

I tried my best to suppress a giggle, but failed. I nodded and we left the café.

  
  


**Summary: January 2044 – December 2044**

  
Numerous insults (embarrassing). Too many suspects (but there were indeed a few legitimate ones). Infinite worries (oftentimes crippling, not very constructive). Bald level by my own means (not ideal). The Ambrosia project was indeed released to the public for free, but by somewhat unconventional means (not perfect). All in all, 1/5 successful New Year’s resolutions. However, there were at least 2/5 successful ones if you pretend like it didn’t take 20 years.

Progress during 2044-2064: exceptional

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read! :D


End file.
